


Practice

by justalittlegreen



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: "practice", Back Scratching, Bisexual, F/F, FUCK, Fucking, Grinding, Lesbian, Lesbian Sex, Pining, Sex, Smut, Temporary Duty, every woman on that show needs to trim her nails, that season 6 episode i can't ever remember, two girls one cot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-22 16:41:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22852540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justalittlegreen/pseuds/justalittlegreen
Summary: The night Lorraine shows up at the 4077, and there's no extra cot. She and Margaret shared a bed when they were girls; it'll be just like old times, right?
Relationships: Lorraine Anderson/Margaret "Hot Lips" Houlihan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

Lorraine's head is tucked between her chin and shoulder, her leg thrown casually over Margaret's hip. _Lord,_ Margaret thinks. They were close as girls, but their ability to share a cot has definitely diminished over the years. She shifts, sliding one leg under Lorraine's and one leg through them, weaving them a bit more efficiently, so her friend's hips are less...splayed. Lorraine nuzzles her sleepily.

"Marg?"

Margaret smiles in the dark. She'd forgotten the nickname.

"Shh, go back to sleep, Lor."

She adjusts herself, trying to find an extra inch on the cot, when suddenly, Lorraine moans in a way that is very, very not sleepy. And the way Margaret's thigh is pressed between hers suddenly seems a lot less innocent, to the sound of it.

Margaret hasn't felt this fluttery since she was fifteen and Lorraine proposed they practice kissing. They're close enough that she can smell Lorraine's soap, and whatever she uses in her hair, and Margaret is suddenly powerfully thirsty. 

It takes her a second to figure out why: the first time she's ever kissed any man, she's always been drinking. Once she gets used to them, it's different, but the first time always requires the liquid courage.

Lorraine, on the other hand, has just always taken guts she doesn't always have.

Margaret brings the tips of her fingers to Lorraine's neck. Their eyes meet, Lorraine's dark and sparkling as they always have, the free spirit personified, but without the desperation that marked their younger years. Margaret flushes, suddenly hot and overwhelmed at every pore.

This isn't a seduction. It's an invitation.

"Lorraine!" Margaret whispers. Does she even know what she sounds like? 

" _Unh_ \- did you forget how good this felt?" Lorraine is _definitely_ moving on purpose now, rocking against Margaret's thigh, breath hot on her skin. "Or did you tell yourself it was just practice?"

Margaret freezes, the memories coming like an avalanche. Oh they _had_ experimented - didn't all girls? Didn't everyone need a friend, someone safe, someone they loved, to try all the new and clumsy things before heading out with the boys? Wasn't it Lorraine herself who'd showed her she didn't need to mess around with boys to make herself feel good?

"Lorraine," Margaret whispers again. "We were just girls then - we didn't. Is this something you need, now?"

Lorraine stops moving, and Margaret can practically feel her hopes drop. "No," she whispers. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," she says, voice breaking into a tearful squeak. 

Margaret squeezes her close. "You?" she says lightly. "Never. You're the girl who pierced my ears, aren't you? I almost got a little carried away myself - it's been a long time since the last time we cuddled in bed, hasn't it?"

There's a long silence, and then Lorraine says, "I'm so stupid."

"No you're not!"

"I am," she whispers. "I'm an utter idiot - I've been missing you for _years._ "


	2. Chapter 2

Lorraine shudders, just a little, against her, and Margaret pulls away just enough to confirm the tears on her shoulder.

"Lo? What's wrong?" Please don't let this be regret - not when Margaret just got over herself, not when she's _remembering,_ not when she's figuring out just how much she needs this.

Lorraine swallows and tips her head back to look Margaret in the eye. "Nothing, Marg. Nothing's wrong. I just -" her voice cracks. "I missed you."

"You really missed me that much," Margaret says with a little wonder in her voice. Truthfully, she feels a little guilty - she hasn't written or thought much about Lorraine in such a long time. And yet seeing her arrive at the 4077 - hearing her voice, catching sight of that old familiar face - it's filled her with a kind of joy she hasn't felt in a _very_ long time.

Yeah, I did," Lorraine says quietly. "I've dreamed about this. Us together again."

Lorraine's slender frame is strong and sure over Margaret's, her lips soft, but assured. Margaret feels like she's dipping her head in a fresh well, going back for more and more of Lorraine's mouth. Lorraine gets their legs tangled at just the right angle, and Margaret instinctively arches up into her muscled thigh, the movement unforgotten, but so long and so deeply hidden. 

She pants and thrusts, flushing as Lorraine kisses her way down her throat, deftly unbuttoning her pajamas with one hand with all the cocky ease of a man undoing her brassiere. She grins - "You still blush to your belly, don't you?" 

"That's nothing," Margaret whispers back. "Do you still - " she raises her own knee until it comes flush with Lorraine - "do you still soak your pajamas when you - you know."

"Do I still make an absolute mess when I come apart?" Lorraine murmurs at her ear, grinding back against Margaret's thigh. "Only when I'm with someone who's really, really good."

Lorraine slides a hand between her thigh and Margaret, palm down, curling her fingers. Margaret scrambles against the new texture, feeling Lorraine's knuckles find the spots that are just aching for attention. She practically lifts her hips clear off the bed in an effort to get more, _more._ She's dizzy with want. It hasn't been this way - maybe ever. Usually, men like to get to it before her vision starts blurring.

"Lo - lo -" she pants. "Please, Lorraine, I want - "

Lorraine removes her hand and Margaret whimpers, at once shameless and wholly embarrassed at her need. "You want it like we used to?" Lorraine asks tentatively, her fingers slipping into the waistband of Margaret's pajamas. 

Margaret doesn't trust herself to speak. She nods. "If you're really good," she whispers, "You'll see what it feels like to have a scratched-up back in the morning."

"Oh honey," Lorraine says, her voice full of gentle laughter, "You think you're the first, and that's the sweetest, most innocent thing I've ever heard you say." And before Margaret can answer, she's slipped her clothes over her hips and is stroking, stroking, every bit as perfect as Margaret remembers it, building her to a peak more skillfully than she ever could herself.

"That's it, Marg," she hears Lorraine say, voice hoarse and deep. "You've become such a wildcat, haven't you? No wonder you didn't run away. You needed this as badly as I did," she teases. She drops her head close to Margaret's ear, nips at her earlobe, near the top, where she's most sensitive. Margaret bites back a yelp, channels it into a long, shuddering sigh. She's so close. She's so close and Lorraine is going to push her over the edge with those _fingers,_ Lord, she hasn't thought about them in so long, but her body knows.

Her body remembers. 

Her body will never forget the way it comes in waves, how Lorraine knows just how far to push her, how she needs to be kissed through it, and Lorraine obliges, as she always has, deep and yearning. Her body will never forget the sweetness of the aftershocks, Lorraine's hand cupped warmly around her as her hips twitch and she moans into Lorraine's hair.

It takes some acrobatics, but Margaret bends and kisses her, slow and soft, working her fingers into Lorraine's hair. When they break apart, she presses her forehead to Lorraine's. "Me, too. I had no idea how much. Just no idea. And - " now it's her turn to reach down, to find soaked cotton, heat and want, the desire to see Lorraine melt under her hands making her start to throb again. "I missed this, too."

Lorraine whimpers as Margaret braces the heel of her hand against her, hips moving again, her mouth one fixed "oh - oh - oh - " and suddenly, Margaret notices just how desperately she needs a manicure. 

Or at least a serious trim.

Lorraine rocks her hips against the heel of Margaret's hand, whimpering and swearing into Margaret's neck, when she's not kissing her. She pauses, dropping a hand to her waistband.

"Marg, do you mind if I - " Margaret nods.

"Whatever you want," she whispers. "You can have anything you want." 

Lorraine bursts into tears for a moment, then scrambles out of her pajama bottoms and climbs over Margaret's thigh again. "I want - " she buries her head in the pillow next to Margaret's ear. "Oh _lord_ , Marg, it's been so long, I just want -"

"Yes?" She's rubbing a hand lightly over Lorraine's back.

"I just want to _feel_ you."

The rush to shed their clothes ends with them both under the blanket, almost shy. Margaret reaches between them, mindful of her nails, and is rewarded with a sigh when she brushes Lorraine. 

Damnit. She can't wait another second. She rolls over , grabs the nail scissors from her nightstand. With a whispered assurance to Lorraine, she sits up and frantically trims the nails of her index and middle fingers. The rest will have to wait.

She comes back and reaches for Lorraine again, this time with more confidence, her freshly-trimmed fingers sliding through slick heat until she finds her way inside, first one, then two fingers. 

Lorraine drips into her palm and clutches.


End file.
